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The Alibi RoomBuzzing lights, smooth music, good-looking people, what more could you want to make up your night?
The joint was called the Alibi Room. It's the kind of place people line up for blocks hoping to get past the necktied brick wall acting as the doorman. The wall which would only move if a folded up bill with enough weight was slipped into the chink which suspiciously resembled his ham sized hand. If you were lucky enough to get inside, you'd find music to wash across your skin like a warm breeze. Comforting, and relaxing, like you had sat down by a fire from being out in the freezing cold. That's what brings people there, the music. Nothing like it in the whole world, the band up on stage, trumpets, saxophones, bass cello's, and the piano decorated with the singer for the night. As she sings it draws you into that music and nothing else exists.
There was a guy, new to town and he looked like a little pup complete with big, lost eyes.&
Behind YourselfHow to feel
Just an apparition
That everyone looks through
Their eyes seeing nothing
No one seeing the real you
Always a face
Never a smile
Showing the world a facade
As you scream behind the mask
It hits the ground
Shattering into the million awaiting pieces
But everyone tenses
Seeing a strange face
That's been there all along
A smile that's never been seen
And still nothing changes
Clones go back to their copying
As you sit and smile
Not caring as once before
They saw you
Even just once
You and not the drone wearing a mask
Walk over the shattered pieces of your past
And into the light a new
IdleYou were always there but now you're nothing but idle
Standing by and watching me breaking down in pieces like a shattered mirror.
My heart is shards that crumble to the ground never being able to be put back together.
Don't you see me screaming and beating against the glass for you?
It seems sometimes you're so far away but in truth you've never even moved
You're just idle watching as the ground gives way
I fall again without you to catch me like before.
I fall into emptiness and reach for you in vain
Hoping that you'll do the same but you just stare.
Watching as you start to fade it's my turn to stand here idle and let myself become numb getting rid of all the feelings of heartache and pain.
My black tears freezing to my face as I stand
Watching you slip away forever.
Just for OnceTime cries and so do I
Both feeling pain
And both being ignored.
Just for once
Please someone notice
The war going on inside
The worlds so cold
It freezes my tears.
I'm so tired
Let me rest
And give me one moment
When I don't feel like this
One moment to not feel the pressure
One moment to cry without being questioned
And just one moment to lie inside myself
Closing my eyes to feel some warmth
And not feel the piercing on my skin
For one time only.
But no one stops
Not for anything
Not even for the inner child crying along on the corner
Think about more than yourself for once
And maybe you'd see the pain in my eyes.
Is There a DifferenceTake this time
And multiply it by five
You don't get a number
but maybe a fire
It rains down like tears
For those who don't resemble a few
Countries are tigers
Ripping at each other
All saying who is where and where is what
Making believe they are not what they seem
But are far worse than anyone can see
Some say it is getting better
But others know the truth
Though they are afraid to be caught and to be broken
Like a wild animal, sedated and caged
Their eyes glaze over as free thoughts
Slowly drift into nothing but a childs playtime story.
Mistress Darkthe beautiful woman,
under whom so many of us study.
Pleasing is the sensation of self inflicted pain.
No matter the medium;
metal to an arm,
bile breaking a throat,
repetitions of St. Agnes.
Like God she gazes, prideful of that which she has created,
and she says it is good.
We see the twisting grin,
the bust that swells.
Repeat our actions we must
a thousand times.
Until our bodies refuse to flinch,
reveal no pain.
Then we can show her; the mistress to Beelzebub,
we too may master the art of sweet agony.
The Dark Lady will point a chapped finger,
more she will push for
Lady Death gives opiates to the masses;
blinded and willing, in turn the masses
shackle the bodies, naked to the ceiling.
Willing to feel Lady Sting, Lady Scorch.
Longing to die for her,
in both fire and ice.
Revelations would hit her, manifestations.
Lady Masochism will fall silent,
at this precious epiphany,
'there are other masters of her art.'
Flee from the WolvesSnow lay like a thick, cold, and glistening blanket of white over the dense mountain forest. Silence fills the weighted evergreens and winter stripped oaks until the beauty of the scene is almost that of a delicate painting hung in some enchanted gallery. Long since has the last sparrow flown southward taking with it the gentle sweetness of its song, and the chattering, red brown squirrel is nestled in his warm tree trunk home, safe from the chill of winter.
I am truly alone.
I lie now on a pallet of soft snow in a small crevice formed by the trunks of two fallen trees. A stiff icy breeze has just stopped blowing and the last few crystals of ice shaken free from their tree limb homes are settling gently to the ground.
My teeth are clenched tightly over the collar of my thick, leather coat, and the ache that often causes in my gums helps to distract my mind from the agony in my right leg as I pull the blood soaked knot on the rude, rough, wood splint tighter and tighter. The pain in my
NoneTo live through death - to die through life - to give while wanting - to trust while being deceived. To be broken - to be lost - to be starved. To stand here naked before the world - here are my flaws - my scars. I have nothing to hide - nothing to show - nothing to keep - nothing to let go. So take it all. You know you want it. I give it to you so you don't have to steal it. It's already broken so you don't have to worry about breaking it. No need to be gentle, no need to be soft, if you feel the need to rip it out by all means do so. At least then maybe I'd feel it.
None..Frozen in this state of madness, looking for a familiar face, but all I see are children that are as mangled as I. Searching in this desolate place only leads to more questions. Questions I can' t comprehend. Questions that never end. The answers rest in locked minds. Keys safely lost amidst the sown mouths and sightless eyes. My only hope is that I do not turn out like them. I pity them and detest them in the same thought. Let them only be a part of this delusion and not a reflection of me.
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Child of the DarknessI look at my reflection, what do I see?
A dark painted portrait,
longs to be free.
The scars in my vision
I breathe eternal, eternally chased.
My soul is disfigured,
cold hands, are unclean.
So close to fiction,
too close to be seen.
Scented and painted,
but covered in blood.
Here in this ecstasy,
an all-natural drug.
Perfect pale white skin,
Impurities run deep.
My own body dead now,
for my new soul to keep.
Covet the darkness,
and burn in the light,
Here I shall remain.
Your child of the night.
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